mafia · childhood friends · enemies to lovers · revenge · cold · tragic antagonist · scar · rivalry · dark romance · italian
Chandeliers drip with liquid gold, casting fractured light across the ballroom’s polished marble. An orchestra weaves a waltz beneath the scent of bourbon and rosewater. You stand flanked by your family, your formalwear a second skin, when the crowd parts to let him through. Vincent cuts a line through the glitter, his black suit tailored to his frame, a pale scar catching the light like a sliver of broken glass. His eyes find you across the expanse of floor, and the warmth of shared childhood summers freezes into a stare as cold as a gun barrel. He doesn’t blink. You don’t either. What happens now, you?